Every Saturday, my sister and I get together to run errands and have some fun. Saturday is Pun Day and I never know what to expect. Once in a while, especially on a holiday weekend, we plan on fewer errands and do them on Friday. On these weekends, Saturdays can be terrible for getting around, and many of the drivers are even worse. This entry has little to do with errands and a bit more to do with puns. (None of which I can recall now, but they were doozies.)
We were traveling on a road not far from where I live. There's almost always traffic here, especially when folks are headed home from work. The jeep in front of us had stopped and from what we could see, there was nothing in the traffic that should have caused this delay in travel. My sister was the first to spot what turned out to not be a problem, but something more fascinating.
On my side of the road there's a railing type fence to keep people from slipping down the slight incline to the pond a few feet away. Wild shrubs grow just beyond this railing, and over the years it's pretty much taken over. At the same time, the pond has receded a bit. It was the sight on this side of the fence that had me staring open-mouthed.
Looking over and through the railing, Mama Goose was trying to find a safe way to get through to the other side of the fence and to the water. Behind her were three goslings and Papa Goose brought up the rear. Both adults, with their long necks stretched must have been about three feet tall. The young were fuzzy and cute and quite obedient to their parents. Mom and Dad seemed quite proud of their little brood. Papa issued a warning to one youngster who got a little too close to the curb. Any closer and the young one would have been flattened pretty quick. (Some drivers don't believe in slowing down on that road.) We couldn't stop or pull over since there was traffic behind us. But as we passed the little family, I looked back a couple times in awe.
I admit it, I'm a city gal born and reared. Sights like that turning up in the city are few and very far between so it makes a lasting impression when they do occur. The picture will stay in my mind and one of these days I'll find a way to incorporate it into one of my stories. It's those little things we learn to appreciate when we find them.
As to the puns... my sister had a few things to say along those lines and they were so 'groan-able' I wish I could recall what they were. One of these days, I half expect them to pop up in my memory and I'll be saying 'yeah, she said that'. And maybe next time I'll get the snapshot I missed. I'll be paying a little more attention to find another pleasant surprise, but that's when they don't happen. If they did, they wouldn't be surprises to make my day.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Thursday, May 15, 2014
A Touch of Medieval
I've always had a thing for medieval times. People generally look at it as a 'romantic' period in history when it was anything but. Life span wasn't very long at all. If war and treachery didn't get you early on, poor nutrition and disease took it's toll. It definitely wasn't a romantic time.
So what's the attraction? That's a question I have never been able to figure out. Mention knights in shining armor (it wasn't all that shiny) or damsels in distress (many of them were the cause of the 'problems' they supposedly were rescued from) and you've got my attention. It doesn't matter that television and the movies don't always get it right. They reserve the right to play with historical facts. That's fine by me, as long as they don't change it too much. After all, there has to be some semblance of truth to the story. Every fiction is based on a kernel of truth.
Case in point... Back in February I watched an episode of a TV series called Reign. After that one episode I was hooked. For anyone not familiar with the series, it's about Mary, Queen of Scots (who was queen of France for barely a year), Catherine De Medici (who was Italian) and her husband, King Henry II. The writers toy with historical fact, period clothing and other things they think they can get away with. And they succeed for the most part. You just have to know what really went on. History purists don't accept the deviations and others, (myself included) will take them for what they're worth. From a writer's point of view it opens possibilities to create plots that don't exist in real history.
Take King John of England. He held the throne for the ten years his brother Richard was king. (Richard preferred to be away on crusade than stay at home and rule). In history books, John has been touted as not being such a bad king. In movies, he has a reputation for being a nasty character. he's the English ruler you love to hate. If not for John, the USA might be looking at an entirely different sort of Constitution since it was based on the Magna Carter.
Then there's the medieval tales that don't -- or barely -- stick to historical fact. A perfect example of this is the movie, A Knight's Tale. It pretty much sticks to the facts about jousting and tourneys, but the music and dance? Totally modern. While it seems completely out of place, it did fit the story. It was done in such a way as to have fun with it and not worry about fact. It's one of my favorites. It combines time periods without getting into any aspect of time travel. (that's another story.)
It all comes down to what you're willing to accept. Expand your horizons and take a chance on something new or a little different. You might find out you like it.
Update: After Junior Dove left, the nest was empty for a day or so. It didn't take long for another pair of doves to claim the nest and prepare to raise a family. Unfortunately, since the tree has leafed out, it's no longer possible to see the nest.
So what's the attraction? That's a question I have never been able to figure out. Mention knights in shining armor (it wasn't all that shiny) or damsels in distress (many of them were the cause of the 'problems' they supposedly were rescued from) and you've got my attention. It doesn't matter that television and the movies don't always get it right. They reserve the right to play with historical facts. That's fine by me, as long as they don't change it too much. After all, there has to be some semblance of truth to the story. Every fiction is based on a kernel of truth.
Case in point... Back in February I watched an episode of a TV series called Reign. After that one episode I was hooked. For anyone not familiar with the series, it's about Mary, Queen of Scots (who was queen of France for barely a year), Catherine De Medici (who was Italian) and her husband, King Henry II. The writers toy with historical fact, period clothing and other things they think they can get away with. And they succeed for the most part. You just have to know what really went on. History purists don't accept the deviations and others, (myself included) will take them for what they're worth. From a writer's point of view it opens possibilities to create plots that don't exist in real history.
Take King John of England. He held the throne for the ten years his brother Richard was king. (Richard preferred to be away on crusade than stay at home and rule). In history books, John has been touted as not being such a bad king. In movies, he has a reputation for being a nasty character. he's the English ruler you love to hate. If not for John, the USA might be looking at an entirely different sort of Constitution since it was based on the Magna Carter.
Then there's the medieval tales that don't -- or barely -- stick to historical fact. A perfect example of this is the movie, A Knight's Tale. It pretty much sticks to the facts about jousting and tourneys, but the music and dance? Totally modern. While it seems completely out of place, it did fit the story. It was done in such a way as to have fun with it and not worry about fact. It's one of my favorites. It combines time periods without getting into any aspect of time travel. (that's another story.)
It all comes down to what you're willing to accept. Expand your horizons and take a chance on something new or a little different. You might find out you like it.
Update: After Junior Dove left, the nest was empty for a day or so. It didn't take long for another pair of doves to claim the nest and prepare to raise a family. Unfortunately, since the tree has leafed out, it's no longer possible to see the nest.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Happy Ending? Hope So
On my last blog I posted an update about the mourning doves that were coming around. Now I can tell the full story.
We had a couple weeks of some miserable weather and I suppose that in itself kept the doves away. About a week into April, there she was, sitting on the nest with her mate nowhere in sight. At this point either he'd stopped coming around having considered his duty done, or he was around just after dawn to bring her some breakfast. The nest is only about six feet from my window, but I always use a small pair of binoculars to get a good look at what's going on.
For about two weeks, maybe a bit longer, Mrs. Dove sat on that nest, only occasionally turning around. Sometimes she was so still, I couldn't be sure if she was still alive. I have to give her high marks for courage because during this time the weather was terrible. There were frequent rain storms and gusty winds. I felt so bad for everything she had to endure. After all, there was nothing around to protect her from the elements. No blossoms, no leaves. It was still too cold in spite of being able to see emerging buds on the branches. I was rooting for her to hang in there. At this point, I hadn't seen anything of Dad and wondered if perhaps something had happened to him. We do have crows in the neighborhood and the occasional hawk. Sea gulls are in permanent residence.
Every day, several times a day, I got out my trusty little binoculars and checked on the nest. At times Mom was so still I was afraid she'd given up, and I'd be saying, almost whispering, "Blink your eyes so I know you're okay." I think she knew I was watching her. She always seemed to look up and she would blink. Mourning doves have pretty eyes. That might sound strange but it's the best way I can describe it.
A day or two after Easter there it was. Mama moved just right so as to let me catch a glimpse of her new little one. In seconds she had it tucked back under her breast feathers to keep it warm and safe. It was at least another week before I actually saw her feeding the little one. Hungry? I thought junior was going to shove his beak down Mama's throat. (I know that's what they do to get an ABC meal but it seems so rough.)
The chick grew fast. Its feathers were darker than Mom's and fluffier. It didn't take long for junior to learn how to preen his feathers and even a couple times took to picking at Mom's feathers. At least that's how it looked. Last week the buds on the tree finally burst with pink blossoms. The bees came around and busied themselves with the highest blossoms and stayed away from the nest. By the end of the day, with the chick well-hidden again, Mom would have a few petals stuck to her back, looking a bit speckled.
For a few days, junior spent part of the afternoon sitting beside Mom, taking in his surroundings. Granted, there isn't much to see in the courtyard but it was a new world to him. The blossoms had already begun to cut off part of the view to the nest. It wouldn't be long before the tree would be leafing out and the nest would be lost to human sight. Early Monday afternoon, Mom fed her offspring then took off. She didn't come back. The night temp dropped into the forties as it has been lately and junior was all alone. Maybe she came back early in the morning to feed him and took off again, trying to teach him some independence. I only know she didn't come back to the nest to sit.
Yesterday, junior sat on the edge of the nest, feathers all puffed out, looking soft and plump. He even dared to leave his home, to sit on a nearby branch. He fluttered his wings quite a bit, making him look more like a miniature bird of prey. It was amusing, and a step in the right direction. It was really gusty later in the afternoon and he huddled back in the nest against the wind. The branch swayed almost in a menacing way. It appeared to be quite the challenge to stay put. He spent another night alone.
About 5:30 this morning a pair of mourning doves sat on the wall that separates the courtyard from the front drive. I wanted to check the nest again but it was still on the dark side. I had to wait a couple more hours to have sufficient light. In the meantime I went back to bed. When I got up later to take a look, the nest was empty. I checked the surrounding branches to see if maybe junior had built up a little courage to move a bit away from his first home. The leaves on the tree aren't very big yet but are a distinct disadvantage. The mourning doves on the wall were also gone.
The pair of adults have come back several times today and I hope it's not a bad omen. I hope it doesn't mean that junior has fallen victim to some happenstance, after all Mom's nurturing and protection. I'd like to think he's learning more about caring for himself and what lies in store for him. That would be hard to do from a nest.
This has been a new experience for me and one I won't soon forget. It puts me in mind of what the Grand Creator has given us on this planet and our responsibility to care for it. Are we up to it? I hope so.
We had a couple weeks of some miserable weather and I suppose that in itself kept the doves away. About a week into April, there she was, sitting on the nest with her mate nowhere in sight. At this point either he'd stopped coming around having considered his duty done, or he was around just after dawn to bring her some breakfast. The nest is only about six feet from my window, but I always use a small pair of binoculars to get a good look at what's going on.
For about two weeks, maybe a bit longer, Mrs. Dove sat on that nest, only occasionally turning around. Sometimes she was so still, I couldn't be sure if she was still alive. I have to give her high marks for courage because during this time the weather was terrible. There were frequent rain storms and gusty winds. I felt so bad for everything she had to endure. After all, there was nothing around to protect her from the elements. No blossoms, no leaves. It was still too cold in spite of being able to see emerging buds on the branches. I was rooting for her to hang in there. At this point, I hadn't seen anything of Dad and wondered if perhaps something had happened to him. We do have crows in the neighborhood and the occasional hawk. Sea gulls are in permanent residence.
Every day, several times a day, I got out my trusty little binoculars and checked on the nest. At times Mom was so still I was afraid she'd given up, and I'd be saying, almost whispering, "Blink your eyes so I know you're okay." I think she knew I was watching her. She always seemed to look up and she would blink. Mourning doves have pretty eyes. That might sound strange but it's the best way I can describe it.
A day or two after Easter there it was. Mama moved just right so as to let me catch a glimpse of her new little one. In seconds she had it tucked back under her breast feathers to keep it warm and safe. It was at least another week before I actually saw her feeding the little one. Hungry? I thought junior was going to shove his beak down Mama's throat. (I know that's what they do to get an ABC meal but it seems so rough.)
The chick grew fast. Its feathers were darker than Mom's and fluffier. It didn't take long for junior to learn how to preen his feathers and even a couple times took to picking at Mom's feathers. At least that's how it looked. Last week the buds on the tree finally burst with pink blossoms. The bees came around and busied themselves with the highest blossoms and stayed away from the nest. By the end of the day, with the chick well-hidden again, Mom would have a few petals stuck to her back, looking a bit speckled.
For a few days, junior spent part of the afternoon sitting beside Mom, taking in his surroundings. Granted, there isn't much to see in the courtyard but it was a new world to him. The blossoms had already begun to cut off part of the view to the nest. It wouldn't be long before the tree would be leafing out and the nest would be lost to human sight. Early Monday afternoon, Mom fed her offspring then took off. She didn't come back. The night temp dropped into the forties as it has been lately and junior was all alone. Maybe she came back early in the morning to feed him and took off again, trying to teach him some independence. I only know she didn't come back to the nest to sit.
Yesterday, junior sat on the edge of the nest, feathers all puffed out, looking soft and plump. He even dared to leave his home, to sit on a nearby branch. He fluttered his wings quite a bit, making him look more like a miniature bird of prey. It was amusing, and a step in the right direction. It was really gusty later in the afternoon and he huddled back in the nest against the wind. The branch swayed almost in a menacing way. It appeared to be quite the challenge to stay put. He spent another night alone.
About 5:30 this morning a pair of mourning doves sat on the wall that separates the courtyard from the front drive. I wanted to check the nest again but it was still on the dark side. I had to wait a couple more hours to have sufficient light. In the meantime I went back to bed. When I got up later to take a look, the nest was empty. I checked the surrounding branches to see if maybe junior had built up a little courage to move a bit away from his first home. The leaves on the tree aren't very big yet but are a distinct disadvantage. The mourning doves on the wall were also gone.
The pair of adults have come back several times today and I hope it's not a bad omen. I hope it doesn't mean that junior has fallen victim to some happenstance, after all Mom's nurturing and protection. I'd like to think he's learning more about caring for himself and what lies in store for him. That would be hard to do from a nest.
This has been a new experience for me and one I won't soon forget. It puts me in mind of what the Grand Creator has given us on this planet and our responsibility to care for it. Are we up to it? I hope so.
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